Through Space and Time
by Phoen1x
Summary: ...What was I thinking when my world didn't end?... A slightly AU spin-off to the series 1 cliffhanger...


Through Space and Time 

**by Phoen!x**

**Disclaimer: **"Now and Again" does not belong to me in the slightest.  I'm just playing in the sandbox, and I will return everything, including buckets and spades, to the owners when I'm done.  No money has exchanged hands in the production of this fic.

**Summary: **…What was I thinking when my world didn't end?…  What might have happened, after the series 1 cliffhanger.  Forgive my hazy details on the show, it's been a while since I saw it.  L/M.

**Rating: **PG-13

**E-mail: **mackenzie_cale@yahoo.com  
  


**Author's Notes: **I have this fascination with shows and books like this, where the main character has a secret, of wondering what would happen When Someone Finds Out.  It's a great concept, and fanfiction gives me the chance to play around with the idea in multiple, implausible ways. :P

-----   ****

This wasn't how he'd quite imagined it.  

Nope, running off into freedom with Lisa and Heather wasn't quite how he imagined it happening at all.  To  be frank, it _was_ pretty close.  His heart was pounding in his ears, a steady _pat-pat-pat_ that was growing to be increasingly familiar from the hours of training, and Lisa's hand in his own sent tingles down his spine in the way it always used to, and Heather's non-stop questions made it seem almost like it was all back to normal.

  
Forcing himself to keep his running slow and measured so they could keep up, Michael focussed his attention on listening to the thuds of the morons following them, hearing the click of guns, and looking around savagely to find a hiding place.

"I can see how you think this is sorting it out," Lisa hissed through her teeth, frustrated, but still kept pelting on, dragging Heather closer to her.  "Who are those guys?  What the hell did you do to make them come after us?"

With a guilty wrench in his stomach, Michael ignored her.  She had every right to be furious at him, although as soon as he caught up with the Doc, when everything had settled down, he was going to transfer some of her anger to him.

Lisa lashed out, smacked him in the arm with her free hand.  "Just stop!  We can't keep going on like this!"  She stopped in her tracks, Heather following her mom's lead, fingering her sleeves and looking at Michael, scared.  
  
Michael put one hand on his left hip and glared at them.  "You think I _want _them coming after you?  We need to put some distance, maybe find somewhere to hide.  If we just stand here, we're sitting ducks, and I don't think those guns were for decoration."

"But what's _going on?_  Why are they after us?"  Heather asked, clenching her mom's shoulder, her knuckles white.

"Is it-"  Lisa glanced backwards, panic on her face.  "It's about Michael, isn't it?  They know about the lawyer…"

"What lawyer?"  The words snapped out of Michael's mouth.  Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but Michael held up one hand.  "Doesn't matter.  Later.  Isn't there a river round here somewhere?"

Without waiting for a response, he turned and ran towards where he knew the river was.  Memories clamoured for his attention, picnics by the river, he splashing Heather as she paddled her feet in the water, lying with Lisa on the blanket as Heather played, boating down the river in the old boat they'd discovered once and he and Roger had spent a long weekend fixing it up…

_Wait a second…_

"The boat!"  Michael could have hit himself if he hadn't known he'd automatically duck from his own hand.  _Damn training_.  Lisa and Heather looked confused.  Michael _New_man shouldn't know about any boat.

Deciding to worry on coming up with a story later, Michael abruptly hoisted Heather up on his shoulders, grabbed Lisa's arm, and headed towards the river.

The boat was still there, tied under a rocky outcropping, hidden by drooping grass.  Ignoring Lisa and Heather for the time being, he briskly told them to get in, and stay low.  Taking a deep breath, Michael dived under the water, and started to push the boat forwards underneath.  Thanking his super speed, even when under water, Michael managed to swim and propel the boat forwards at the same time, sending the boat forwards at a steady clip, a speed their pursuers wouldn't be able to copy.  Their pursuers probably wouldn't even suspect they'd gone down the river, probably thinking they'd crossed the river on foot and continued up the other side.

An hour passed before Michael had to stop, and he managed to pull himself up into the boat, soaking wet and meeting Lisa and Heather's hollow glances with a tired grimace.  Heather looked kind of impressed at his method of powering the boat.

"_Now _can you explain to us what's going on, Mr. Newman?" Lisa demanded.  Her hair was windswept, tangled, and she'd obviously run her fingers through it, and her eyes were burning with anger, anger that someone would endanger her child, her clothes were torn from the rush through the undergrowth in the wood and her skin was red with fatigue and annoyance and fury.

"First things first."  Michael looked flatly across at her.  "What was this about a lawyer?"

Lisa looked irritated.  "One, a man named Isley, took us to your house in town.  Not a normal place for a single guy."

Michael shrugged.  "So I'm a minimalist."  And:  "Isley, huh?"

"You're a minimalist with an indoor gym and swimming pool?"  
  
"Let's continue with the lawyer thing.  Entering my house, _illegally_ I may add, doesn't normally get a SWAT team after you."

Lisa looked away.  "He said that my husband's death was highly suspicious, that the hospital could have saved him, but the government stepped in and intervened."

"The hospital… could have saved him?"

Lisa didn't notice how tense Michael's voice was.  "He'd have needed an organ transplant, a lot of blood, and he'd have gone into a coma, but he might have survived still… But because of the government…" Her voice turned bitter.  "He died."

"_Mom_…"  Heather's voice was raw, small, and Lisa turned to her, pulling Heather to her, and she buried her head in her mother's shoulder, shaking.  "You didn't tell me," Heather continued, her voice muffled.  
  
"The strange thing is…  _No…_"  Lisa frowned.

  
"The strange thing is what?" Michael prompted.

"The lawyer said Michael is still alive.  Somewhere.  Somehow."  The words were flung out bitterly, as if she couldn't believe it.

"Hm."  Michael folded his hands on his lap.  "Well, it seems like we're in a bit of a problem, then.  They're after you _and _after me."

  
"Why am I not surprised," Lisa said flatly.

  
Michael shrugged.  "Can't see a reason _why _they'd have a grudge against me," he said flippantly, with the tone that told them he knew exactly how irritating he could be.  "But I knew they'd come after you," he added quietly.  "I couldn't let them get you without at least warning you first."

"Mr. Newman."  Lisa said, sounding tired.  "I appreciate the warning, but-"

"But?"  
  
"But I'd appreciate it even more if you left us alone.  Whenever you're around, things go to hell in a hand basket."

  
"And where would you go?"  Michael looked at Lisa flatly.  
  


Lisa opened her mouth to say something.

"He has a point, mom," Heather said, not sounding too unhappy with the prospect of staying with _Mr. Newman_, something which cheered Michael up immeasurably.

"Well do _you _have somewhere in mind?"  Lisa asked pointedly.

"Not really," Michael admitted.  "Somewhere as far away from the Doc as possible," he added, with a twist of his lips.  
  
"The Doc?"

  
"Doc Morris.  You know.  The tall, dark, silent, brooding one that never allows me to do anything?"  
  


"Oh, _him_.  Yeah, mom, we should stay away from him.  He wouldn't even let Mr. Newman have a spiced pecan."  Heather shrugged dismissively.  "Good thing he turned his back."  
  


Michael grinned.  "Good thing you're a good shot."  
  


"_You _ate some of the spiced pecans… I figured it was you, Heather, trying to appease me a little…"  Lisa looked lost in thought for a moment.

"They weren't supposed to be eaten?"  Michael looked up in what he hoped was sudden, open regret.

Lisa shrugged.  "I'm glad someone enjoyed them."  
  


"That I did.  Thanksgiving isn't thanksgiving without spiced pecans," Michael said with a wry smile.

"That's what Dad always said," Heather said softly, lost in her memories for a second.  "I used to toss them to him when mom wasn't watching, too, and he'd catch them in his mouth like you did and--"  Heather was suddenly, fiercely, silent.  "You're an awful lot like dad," she admitted quietly.  "I wish he was here."

"I'm sure he wishes he was too," Michael said quickly, without thinking.

"You sound almost like you knew him," Lisa accused softly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Michael froze for a second, forcing his expression to remain neutral and he forced a quick, brief smile.  "How couldn't he want to be here?"  Lisa's gaze was on his, dark and warm and calculating, and Michael could feel himself getting lost.  "How couldn't he want to be with the two people he loved more than anyone else in the whole world?"  
  


"How did you--" Lisa breather quietly, and Michael abruptly turned, starting to fiddle with the side of the boat.  He quickly slid into the water.

  
"I'd better get us moving again.  There's some caves further up we can hide in for a while," Michael muttered.  "Keep your heads down again."

  
"Bu-" Heather started, but was silenced by Lisa's hand tight on her shoulder, and both women settled down in the boat like Michael had told them to.

-----

They made the caves before nightfall, Michael steadfastly propelling the boat forwards for another hour.  Michael tied the boat up while Lisa helped Heather up to the caves.  They were a small system of caves on a darkened hillside, mostly abandoned.  A few kids had obviously used them as a den, evidenced by the few mouldy blankets and wooden crated and empty glass bottles.

Lisa busied herself with building a fire, while Heather sorted out the blankets, looking for the least mouldy amongst them.

"I'll go get us some food," Michael offered.

  
"How are you going to do that?" Lisa asked, looking up from her pile of wood askance at him.  "The nearest place must be over a mile from here."

"I can run pretty fast," Michael offered.  "I'll be back in ten minutes at the very outside."

Michael headed for the mouth of the cave.

  
"How fast _can _you run?" asked Heather, curious.

"Nearly thirty mph," Michael said lightly, disappearing round the corner.

Wondering what it was that made him say that, Michael headed out as fast as he could, trying to think as he went.  The whole thing was seriously screwed up.  The Eggman, out, SWAT teams after both of them, and if he wasn't too careful he was going to have his head taken off if he said any more stupid things.  There was a town almost a mile out from the caves, and Michael made it there in just over two minutes at his top speed.  The shops were all shut, it being late, and Michael apologetically broke into someone's house quietly, stole some things from their larder and left more than enough money to cover the breakage and food.

Stuffing the food into a plastic bag he found on the path, he made sure no one could have seen him, or could know it was him that had been there, and he ran back to the caves at the same mad pelt.  Just being around his family gave him the strength to push his limits to the extremes, but if he didn't get something proper to eat soon he was going to implode.  Or maybe explode.  His insides seemed keen to explore either option.

Spurred on by the thought of eating with Heather and Lisa, and eating something that _wasn't _Doc Morris' normal fare of gruel, gruel and yet more gruel, Michael slowed down so he wouldn't be quite so much of a blur when entering the caves.  When he got back, there was a fire, and Lisa and Heather were huddled together, warming their hands on the flickering heat.  
  


"Hi," he managed briefly, tipping the goods to the floor.  Several tins of meat and fruit, a bag of apples, half a joint of cooked ham, some potato chips, a bunch of grapes, a bottle of diet soda and some drinking cups spilled out, while Lisa looked on in  confusion.

"Where did you get all that?"  Heather demanded, her eyes wide.

  
"From the town.  Almost a mile thataway,"  Michael said blankly, waving his arm in the direction he'd come from.  "Don't worry, I paid for it," he added, glossing over the details of his break-in with a brief sense of guilt.

"At least you brought fruit," Lisa grunted.  "Mind you, the tins might be a bit of a problem."

Michael frowned.

"Did you think to bring a tin opener?"  Lisa asked pointedly.  Michael winced, and Lisa rolled her eyes as if to say _typical guy_.

"I'm just glad this stuff is real food," Michael said, ignoring his mistake.  "If all I could have got was gruel, I swear I would have rather starved."

Heather quirked an eyebrow upwards.  "Gruel?  What, are you secretly Oliver Twist?"  
  
Michael pulled a face.  "No.  But Doc's idea of a great menu is gruel for breakfast, gruel for lunch and gruel for tea.  He says I have the insides of a six year old, but really…"

"Yuck."  Heather took some of the ham her mom offered her.  "So how old are you then?"

"Six years old," Michael said, trying to keep his face straight.

Heather was the one to pull a face this time, and Michael tried hard not to remember it was the same one she pulled every time she didn't believe him.  "Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly," Michael protested, taking a hunk of ham off the joint.  "OK.   To be honest, I don't really know."  
  
"How can you not know?"  Lisa blurted out, chewing thoughtfully on the meat and looking bemused, not for the first time that day.

"Doc didn't let me look at the date much," Michael said with a fond grin of remembrance.  "I mean, I managed to trick it out of him sometimes, but…"  He shrugged.

  
"Doesn't sound like being an IRS auditor is much fun," Lisa said lightly.

  
"I don't suppose it would be," Michael returned.

  
"Ha!  So you _aren't a tax man.  I __knew it," Heather crowed, looking triumphant.  "I told you he didn't act like one, didn't I, mom?"_

Lisa shot an annoyed look at Heather, before looking curiously across at Michael.  "I take it that you work for the government?  What did you do to get them after you?"

"There was this guy I put in jail over a year ago, the Eggman.  He...  He's quite infamous for his chemical warfare.  Only, he knows about…  about the Project I've been part of, and--  Well, I suppose they don't want me spreading the news about it."  Michael looked down at his hands sadly for a moment, before taking an appreciative bite of the pink meat and thinking how good it tasted for a second.

  
"Project?"

Michael winced.  "I can't tell you about it.  It'd give them more reason to want to shut you up.  I think they already think you know about it."  
  
Lisa laughed dryly.  "Mr. Newman, they already tried to kill me and my daughter once today.  They can want me deader, but it won't matter because I don't think I can be killed twice.  You might as well tell us if we're going to die anyway."  
  


"No.  Nuh-uh.  No way."  Michael shook his head.  "If I can get close to them, maybe, I can bargain for your lives.  If you don't know about… the Project… they won't kill you."

"But they'll kill you, even if you try to get close to them," Heather protested.

Michael smiled weakly.  "What am I supposed to do?  Let you be fugitives all your lives?  When you've worked so hard to be where you are today?"  Michael paused.  "I mean… where you were yesterday?"

Lisa managed a feeble laugh.  "Still, Heather has a point.  They'll kill you before you can get close to them."  
  
"Maybe not." Michael looked into the fire broodingly.  "Maybe."

"Well, if you can run two miles in under ten minutes, maybe you can dodge bullets.  Like Superman," Heather said with a grin.  "Hey, you're not Superman, are you?"

Michael laughed.  "No, no.  I'm just… me."

  
"Well, do you have a name?  Other than Mr. Newman?"  Heather picked up one of the grapes between her thumb and forefinger and rolled it between them.  "Or is that not even your real name?"

"Heather, don't be so inquisitive," Lisa snapped.  Heather wrinkled her nose and stared at her mom for a long moment, until Lisa squirmed a bit.  "Well, it would be nice not to have to refer to you as '_you'_ or '_Mr. Newman' all the time.  What __is your first name?"_

  
Michael looked up from the fire.  "I don't think that's a good idea."  
  
"Oh, come on.  It can't be that bad.  Unless it's something like Jedediah, and then we can just call you Jed or something," Heather reasoned.

"I still don't-"  Michael sighed.  "My first name is Michael.  That's why I-"

"Michael?"

Hearing Lisa ghost over his name so softly, so reverently, made Michael's insides curl.  "Yes," he affirmed quietly.  "I just thought it was too awkward to--"

"It's okay," Lisa said softly, standing up and dropping an unopened banana to the ground.  Stalking over to the mouth of the cave, she folded her arms over her chest and stared out into the night.

Heather seemed a little shocked.  "Michael, huh?  Well, I personally am very attached to that name.  It's a great name."

Michael grinned softly.  "Thanks.  I happen to have been born with it."

Lisa still didn't turn back to them, but kept talking.  "So come on, Michael Newman.  Why do they want you dead?"

  
Michael sighed.  "OK.  OK.  It's because Doc Morris and I were working on… a project."

"You said that before," Lisa accused.

  
"I know."  Michael stared at Lisa's back for a long moment.  "It was a… theory they had.  If someone died, and their brain was intact… The brain could be transplanted into… a synthetic body."

"Wow.  How _Robocop is that?"  Heather exclaimed.  "Did it work?"_

"Sort of.  Our… test subject… was in an accident.  His permission was asked, he had barely any chance of survival after the accident, and so th- we transplanted his brain into the synthetic body Doc Morris created."

"It sounds like a sci-fi version of _Chances Are," Lisa commented gruffly._

"Worse than that."  Michael pulled a wry face.  "There was… a problem for the guy.  He… he left a family behind.  A family he loved very much, who grieved badly for him, and who could never know he was still alive.  The government threatened to kill him, and then them, if they ever found out."  His voice was taut with bitterness.  "It practically killed him, except…"

  
"Except for what?"  Lisa turned around, her eyes hidden by shadows.

"Except for those brief moments when he got to see his family from afar…"  A warm, mocking smile twisted Michael's mouth.  "When he got to see they still lived, and loved him, even though he couldn't be there.  He could see how strong his wife was, how she kept on going, kept on being strong, moved her life forwards… He could see what a beautiful young woman his daughter was growing into…"

"That must have been _horrible for him.  Not being able to be with them, on pain of death?   Sounds like some awful, trashy sci-fi serial show they show at midnight…"  Heather said softly.  "Not like I know anything about those kind of shows, I'm always in bed at that time.  So he's still out there?  Or…"  Horror filled Heather's eyes.  "Have they killed him and his family, to stop them knowing, and now they're after you and Doc Morris because you know too?"_

"Something like that," Michael admitted briefly, clenching his fists and letting them fall at his side.

"Oh, god…"  Lisa moved forwards, dropped to her knees, stared at Michael in horror.  "It couldn't be… it _couldn't_…" she said fiercely, lowering her gaze to the floor before lifting it up again.  "It was Michael, wasn't it?  My Michael.  They put him in… a synthetic body…  even though they knew he might survive otherwise.  They _used _him, and…  Oh _god_, please say you didn't, please, you--"  She looked up at Michael, pleading.  "Please say you didn't do that to my husband?"

"I didn't do that to your husband," Michael said softly, the words hurting.

"But someone else did," Heather whispered, finishing off the sentence.  "And now they're trying to kill him, because he was their experiment gone wrong?"

Michael couldn't answer that, couldn't do anything, everything was sliding out of control.  He'd meant to hide this from them, for deniability, the one chance of saving them and giving them a normal life back, but being around them made his control slip.  He stood up brusquely, heading over to where Lisa had stood, and instead slumped down against the wall of the cave, staring out into the star-strewn sky.

  
"I tried, but they wouldn't… they wouldn't let me…"  he muttered harshly, as if through tears that couldn't fall.  He ran his hands over his face.  "I'm sorry."  
  
Lisa rose to her feet again in anger.  "_Sorry?_  You took my husband, you took him to pieces!  You kept him away from the people who loved him, who he loved… You're the monsters in this, you and Doc Morris and-"  Lisa stopped hurriedly with a little shriek, and sunk to her knees.

  
"Mom?"  Heather looked at her mom, looked at Michael, and let the pieces click together on their own.  She got to her feet, and stared at Michael, her eyes wide and mouth open.  "Dad agreed to this?"  He voice was smaller than it had ever been, almost swallowed up by the caves and into the blackness down below.

"He didn't know that he wasn't allowed to see his wife and daughter again.  Not until it was too late."  Michael sighed.  "I tried," he said, suddenly fierce.  "I tried to see you, talk to you, but-"  
  
"Why?  Did you feel guilty?  Feel like if you told us about what happened to Mi- my Michael, that you could get around it all somehow?  That he could still see us if someone else told us?"  Lisa sounded disgusted.  "You've killed us all, Mr. Newman, and I hope you feel happy with yourse--"  Lisa stopped, lifting her gaze up to where Michael was crouched.  "With yourself," she finished quietly.  "He… never stopped trying to see us, did he?"

"Nope," Michael said softly, his voice hushed.  "Never stopped trying.  Never stopped loving you, and knowing you had to move on but still hurting, and it _hurt_, it _hurt so badly and--"  
  
Lisa stepped forwards, dropping down again to her knees in wonder, and she held out her hands softly.  Michael turned, and fell into them, his head on her shoulder, and her hands in his hair._

  
"--and I never stopped missing you so much," Michael finished, his voice raw.  "_Never."  _

Lisa pulled away softly, tears in her eyes, shell-shocked and bemused and baffled and happy all at once.  "You look so different," she choked, lifting up a tentative hand, trailing it down his face, a ghost of a touch.

  
"I'm still me.  In here."  Michael touched his head.  "No matter what they did to me, they couldn't change that."

Lisa burst out crying, but smiled through her tears.  "What are we going to do with you, hey?  I ought to hit you, but-"

"Mom, what-"  Lisa and Michael looked up to see Heather in a mixture of bewilderment and shocked happiness.  "What's going on?"  
  


"Heather…  What's my name?"  Michael looked up at her, with a queer expression on his face through his tears that Heather couldn't decipher.  
  


"Michael Newman," Heather said promptly.  "Newman…  _New _man?"  She stared at Michael, echoing an animal trapped in headlights for a moment, before a brilliant grin crossed her elfin face.  "_Dad?_"

She threw herself forwards, winding Michael slightly, and he just gripped her tightly in a hug.  Lisa joined the hug a moment later, filling his nostrils with that indefinable scent that was Lisa, was always Lisa, that kept him going in those long lonely nights in the townhouse when all he could do was lie and remember past dates and events, a mixture of vanilla and coffee and freshly-cut lilies.  Michael couldn't stop the tears, couldn't stop the blinding grin that they was finally _there_, with him, like it always should have been.

No matter what, he knew fiercely, he had to keep them, like this, safe, and with him.

Being apart from them for one more moment wasn't quite on his agenda.

-----

The phone was ringing; persistent, loud, echoing and reverberate in the small, tidy townhouse.  Vanilla walls radiated the warmth of the sunshine, and the house was imbued with warmth, physical and emotional.

A dismembered television blared the news out lazily, soft and broken on the summer breeze.  "_…and in other news, the infamous chemical warfare antagonist, the mysterious Eggman, has once again been brought into custody, on the death penalty…"_

"Jen, will you get the phone?"

"Aw, _mom_."  An irritated girl swept into the hall, dark hair to her shoulders, a quirky grin on her face nevertheless, a rainbow hat jammed on her head and dressed colourfully.  "Hello?"

"_Hey, it's me, Leo.  Can you get me Mr. Newman?"_

Jen nodded, her beaded necklace bobbing with her nod.  "Sure.  _Daaaaadd!_"

A friendly, sun-browned face appeared at the door, a shock of brown hair topping his wide smile, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and bright Bermuda shorts.  Taking the phone off his daughter, he ignored her scowl at his choice of outfit.

  
"Hello?"

"_Everything's sorted, Mr. Newman._"  The familiar, less than dulcet tones of Theo Morris filled the receiver.  "_Project Now and Again has been officially wiped out like it never existed.  In our records you are a family hiding out under the Witness Relocation Scheme."_

"Wow," Michael breathed.  "So, we witnessed a murderer?"

  
"_Something like that._"

"Aren't you disappointed?"  
  


"_Well-_"  Theo - or Leo, for the duration of the phone call, sounded a little reluctant.  "_I discovered I can actually talk for myself._"  

The sound of a baby crying in the distance brought a blinding grin to Michael's face.  "So you finally won your Roxanne… Congratulations, Doc."

  
"_Her name is Lauren, Mr. Newman.  Any future association with me, you realise, is strictly on an emergency-only basis.  I am assured there will be no further problems.  Your wife Elise is now an estate agent, am I correct?"_

"Yes.  She's never been happier."

  
"_Good.  Well, have a good life, Mr. Newman.  And keep those arteries clean._"

"Yessir."

"_…Good bye, Mr. Newman._"

"'Bye, Doc.  And… thanks."

"_Thanks?_"

"For giving me another chance.  And I'm sorry the government didn't renew the program."

  
"_You win some, you lose some, Mr. Newman.  Just do me a favour…"_

  
"Anything."

"_As you have already realised, I have forbidden you to see me unless it is a dire emergency.  Please endeavour to uphold this better than my ban on your wife and daughter last year._"

  
"Definitely, Doc.  Congratulations about Lauren."  
  


"_Makes she me crazy, Michael."_

Michael smothered a laugh as the tone sounded indicating Theo had hung up the phone.  He looked up at the cork note board above the phone, already covered in phone numbers and Polaroids of himself with Lisa and Heather-- or Elise and Jennifer Newman, as they were now known.  Numbers of people from his new workplace were scattered on the table, on IRS business cards.  _And who said the Doc didn't have a sense of humour…  Wait, that _may _have been me…_

  
"Michael, honey, I think the sausages are burning."  
  


The familiar, melodic tones of his wife flew through the air, accompanied by a burning smell of charcoal and charred meat.  Smiling and wrinkling his nose, he headed out to the backyard, where his life awaited him.  

Somehow he had been handed a third chance at a perfect life, and his perfect life was out there in the backyard, in the sunshine, waiting for him with a smile and with love.  He wasn't so much of an idiot to turn that kind of chance down.

-----


End file.
